Perfect Prisoner
by planet p
Summary: Story repost! Life and love play the same game: she's a hostage to the same game he is. Sydney/Catherine


**Perfect Prisoner **by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.

31/07/2006

**Prologue**

The woman blinked, gazing at herself in the mirror. Blue eyes. Dark hair. Pale complexion. She blinked again. Perfect as always, on the outside.

She didn't know why she did it. Actually, she did, in a manner. But she didn't really understand it. And then afterwards, it would feel so wrong, so bad. She hated herself.

And next time the day rolled around, she would go right ahead and do it again.

Comfort, solace… She figured that these things had to have something to do with it. Mostly she tried to blame neediness, lust, all the normal things a woman could blame, would be acceptable in the eyes of men, in the eyes of other women. Weakness. Savage with no grasp of loyalty. And on and on it went. Easy to blame it on all that.

He was nice – oh, was he ever nice – gentle, kind and many things beside, but she knew that he was hurting too. Perhaps that's why she had chosen him? Perhaps…

Her mind wandered.

And then there was the sheer stupidity of it. Of all the times, of all the places, of all the ways… But it made a change from routine, became a routine of its own. So damned unthinkable that it was almost conceivable.

She was married after all.

They had never spoken before. Perhaps once or twice, in idle chatter, in company…

She knew nothing about him.

He knew nothing about her.

It didn't matter.

Because now it was unstoppable.

It wasn't love. There were no words she could summon, no words to fathom, to describe, it just was…

She pulled the matte red lipstick from her handbag and traced it across her lips. Yes, all better. She was ready now. Ready to go back to being the Chairman's perfect wife.

She made a mental note to ask his name, for childish reasons…

**Chapter One**

Catherine sniffed, brushing at her burning blue eyes furiously, pretended to be scratching her silvery purple eyelid. She hated that she felt so useless, so miserable. Catherine Parker was not a mope. Catherine Parker was never seen without a beaming smile bright enough to match the sun and then some.

_Not this day,_ she thought, _today I'm just another silly little girl reeling from last night's screaming match with the hubby._

She took a deep breath and felt salt fizz in her lungs. She had gone out into the yard by the ocean; beautiful, secretive, tumultuous ocean.

For a time she simply stood, her eyes shut lightly, feeling the salty breeze harsh against her pale complexion. Her hair was getting messy but she scarcely cared. She was shivering something awful but the cold never touched her inside.

A storm was building in the grey twilight but the storm inside was a long time going; writhing and twisting like a mad, demented, seething mass of black. Tearing and twisting and burning her inside.

She stopped a few yards short of the cliff edge, stood with her arms crossed defensively across her chest. It was only when she lifted her hand to casually brush the dark hair from her mouth when she noticed she was not alone.

She gazed at the young man for a while, staring openly, but he never turned. He just stood and watched the waves crash against the jagged cliff face; working themselves up only to find ruin on the cold, hard rock, dead and scattered; reeling back to join the rhythmic, enchanting dance from whence they were birthed.

His brown eyes seemed only to gaze, on and on and on, and she wondered that he was seeing at all, or rather remembering. It seemed that he was remembering a time long ago, a distant past, better times.

But those eyes were a wall, a façade. She felt it like the waves that swelled and broke mercilessly below her feet. She knew he was really thinking of the evil he had become, the evil he condoned just by working in a place like the Centre, the same evil he had tried so very hard to escape as a boy.

For a time she was puzzled, confusion and pain clouding the sweet, twinkling blue of her eyes; some of the storm inside spilling over into her face, but she let the feeling pass. Surely it was only that he was unhappy. Unhappy with the miserable weather? Unhappy with the cheap coffee the dining hall stocked? Unhappy with a thousand billion things.

She looked back to the ocean for a time, allowing the methodical rhythm to soothe her, calming the storm inside. The ocean could do that, possessed a power far greater than any imagined; normality, regularity, stability, safety. The ocean would always be this way, she thought, and the day the waves stopped, the day the ocean ceased its ageless dance, would be the day the earth died.

Sighing softly, Catherine uncrossed her arms lightly, gave the young man beside her a brief glance, turned and began her journey back into society.

She hadn't walked a few yards when a strange kind of loneliness seized upon her soul. Every step she took was another step closer to emptiness. An odd kind of mourning crept into her heart, welling up inside the way corn expanded with heat. She stopped dead, gazing up into the grey heaven.

A slow breath escaped her rouge lips. A low throbbing headache beat in the side of her head. A small practiced hand reached up to massage the temple, flinching and retracting violently as it brushed the swollen bruise hidden by all that lovely hair.

Memories dug deep into her consciousness, memories she swore she would forget. Images flashed past her unseeing eyes. She thought of how James had hit her, and how much it had hurt. But the hurt was what ants were to men compared to her pain at the cold look his eyes had taken on as he hit her. So, so cold; her heart had been stopped in her chest with one look in those eyes, and she didn't understand how a feeling, sentient being could be so sterile and indifferent.

Recklessness seized at her insides, screamed savagely for action; fought against the idleness taking over; something, anything, and she was powerless to object. Catherine turned back to the young man and touched his arm lightly. He turned suddenly, frowning.

The young woman leant in and whispered to his ear. "4:20, room 43, sub level 26."

And with that she was gone, whisked away with the bitter breeze that had started to pick up, gloom closing in with the heaving clouds.

**Chapter Two**

Catherine paced the room anxiously, cursing herself for her stupidity. What had she been thinking?

A soft, urgent knock pulled her from her raging thoughts. She sneaked a glance at the tiny watch on her equally tiny wrist. 4:20. Her heart somersaulted in her chest. She didn't know what she was to say to him, what he expected her to say, she hadn't planned that far ahead.

Again she cursed herself, silently. _Right on time…_

She let him in on the second knock. _My special room after all…_ She came here when she needed to think. Right now she wasn't thinking.

She had stopped at the sight of those eyes again. He kept trying to catch her eye, and she kept trying to look away. His eyes had that sad but determined look about them. Idly, she wondered what he did.

He wasn't smiling. No, he was frowning, but it wasn't an angry frown. He was reaching out to her for reaction. He sensed something was not right. He only wanted to help. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Catherine was tired of words, tired of meaningless garble.

Before she had grasped control of herself fully, she had backed him against the wall and was kissing him.

Finally managing to pull free, the young man stared wide-eyed at Catherine with an expression that clearly spelt 'shock'.

Catherine, not quick enough to feign apology and shame, gazed back at him with nothing but savage hunger and need, a wild smile lighting her perfect face.

He frowned momentarily, searching for a sign in her face. Catherine wished he'd stop looking at her like that. His best intentions went all out the window in her eyes, and all she wanted was him.

She took his face in her hands roughly, her head at a crazy tilt; thumped his head against the hard wall with a dull thud.

His dark eyes grew impossibly wide in fright. Catherine's smile only widened to see him squirm. He hic-cupped, clapping a hand over his mouth.

Catherine stared for the better part of thirteen seconds. Slowly, she blinked. She thought it was the silliest thing she had ever seen. Ecstatic, crazed laughter escaped her throat, and she just could not stop laughing, not for breath, not for her life.

The young man gazed at Catherine with interminably sad eyes.

The laughing died down to be replaced by sobbing, useless unbidden crying. She blushed scarlet, feeling very silly and miserable at the same time, the tears still streaming silently down her face.

That same miserable feeling seized her and she thought she was going to die from it all. It was all she could do to keep from laughing like a mad woman. She kissed him again, only he didn't try to stop her the second time. _Take comfort where comfort is given, for it may not be offered again…_

**Chapter Three**

Catherine would inevitably end up feeling deliriously happy for a few hours and then devastatingly low as the hours ticked away, feeling foolish and childish and dirty and horrible and… so many other things.

No matter the excuses she brought up, her mind could counter flawlessly.

_James…_

Honey, the way I see it, his love ain't no love worth sacrificing your life for, not even your happiness…

_I love him._

Uh-huh, and he loves you too, daisy chain…

_I'm married._

Married to what, Sarah Jane?

_Not the point…_

Exactly the point, Little Miss Hallelujah!

_IT'S WRONG!_

Compassion is not wrong, Marie Claire!

By the time Tuesday came round again she needed him so badly that she always went back, kept the schedule. In time it became their little secret, not such a shameful thing, but something good to look forward to after a damned shitty week once again in everyone's favourite hell, the Centre. It became something they both depended on.

She could debate on it for hours, lock herself away and refuse to come out, but in the end, she always kept the schedule. A force greater than the will of any feeble mortal seemed to compel her…

And then one day it just slipped out of her mouth.

Catherine finished buttoning her jacket and looked up at the young man standing by the door, a hand on the knob. Though they had things to do, she didn't want him to go yet. The words formed on her lips before she processed them fully in her head. "People call me Cathy…" She waited in shocked silence for his reply, praying somehow that she had just not spoken those words out loud. She saw in his eyes that he was thinking. Her heart sank. They had never really spoken before.

And suddenly she felt panicked. _What if he thought her name was silly? What if he thought she sounded funny? What if he didn't like her voice? What if he got scared she meant something by it? Commitment or the sort?_ His hand had not left the door. She wanted to run and throw herself in front of the door. _'Please, no! Don't go! I didn't mean anything by it, I swear!'_

He turned to face her properly, his hand slipping from the door knob as he did. "Sydney. Dr. Sydney Green." He held out his hand for her to shake, smiling.

She almost sighed in relief. She was sure she was shaking visibly. Now she was embarrassed. _Uh-oh!_ She was staring but she didn't want to, so she took his offered hand, smiling now herself. His voice was so pretty.

**Chapter Four**

As time passed they both learnt a little more about each other through others they associated with. And one day they got to talking, just as if they were old friends, as if they had always been.

"You seem a little down today?"

Catherine frowned. She felt a lot down too, but she never spoke about it. Who was there to talk about it with? James would have told her to grow up. He would think her pathetic and childish. It only took one moment, one slip up, to turn all the good parts of a person bad, for that is what people did.

Catherine was holding her breath, hoping it would pass.

"We could talk about it if you wanted?"

She winced at the soft note in his voice, that tender look in his eyes. She took a deep breath and placed a hand on his chest, pushing him backwards against the door. "Shut up and kiss me!"

"Please hold me, Sydney. I feel so cold. I don't wanna be alone anymore." Sydney smoothed the dark hair from her pretty face, pulling her into his arms. Catherine sobbed silently into his shoulder, enjoying the feel of safety his arms afforded her, the feel of his heart beside her own. She spoke in a voice barely more than a breath. "There was a little boy…"

Sydney rubbed her back comfortingly, silently letting her know that she didn't have to continue if she didn't want to, that he would not hold it against her and send her away.

"He… he-ee was-s… just riding his bike to s-schoo-l-l…"

Grubby tears splashed down onto his shirt, trails of dissolved mascara running in railroads down her polished cheeks. Catherine tried frantically to brush her tears away, angry at herself for dirtying Sydney's shirt.

Sydney shook his head gently. "It doesn't matter. I have other shirts." He smiled but couldn't quite manage a laugh. She looked so so sad. He almost didn't want to let go of her… ever.

Catherine shook her head frantically, sniffing loudly, and buried her head painfully in his shoulder. She wanted to stop crying but the tears didn't look like letting up for some time yet.

"H-he didn't mean to do i-it… H-hee-ee d-di'n't see the c-carrr…" She burst into all out hysterics, overwhelmed by grief at the little life that was no more. "Oh, Sydney, I couldn't help him! I just wasn't quick enough!"

Sydney pulled her closer but did not speak in case he said something to upset her further.

"They never stopped!" She clutched his shirt, thumping her head into his shoulder. "They didn't care! They just left him there, TO DIE! He didn't want me to leave. He didn't want to be aloneee…" She had lifted herself painfully from the harsh asphalt, her movements clumsy and desperate, all the while promising that she wasn't leaving him, that she would be back just as soon as she rung the ambulance. She ran then. When she returned barely a minute later, having spent the most part of the minute explaining the urgency of her situation to the stranger at the door of the house she had run to, she was too late. He had passed on. He no longer felt the pain. She let her head fall onto Sydney's shoulder, sobbing quietly to herself. Sydney hummed quietly, rocking from side to side.

Catherine closed her eyes and concentrated on his voice, feeling her breathing calm slowly, silent tears still falling as they danced around the room to imaginary music.

Catherine could talk for hours, non-stop, and Sydney would listen; offer comfort if it was needed. It felt so good to finally have someone to talk to.

Catherine gazed back into Sydney's warm eyes through the steam rising from her dining hall coffee in its paper coffee cup. "There's these voices… in my head, and they scare me so much," she blurted. Realising what she had just said – and how crazy it sounded – she almost fainted, furious with herself for letting her guard down yet again. Her heart froze. She could see him out that door in a flash.

He didn't run for the door as she expected him. He listened patiently as she spilled her heart out. She thought he looked a bit sad then, but she knew he wasn't sad because he thought she was mad, rather that he was sad at the trauma she had to be put through at every turn.

"I… I don't wanna be crazy," she stammered, desperately searching his eyes for any kind of reaction.

"No, Cathy," he took up her hands carefully in his own, shaking his head slightly, his eyes incurably sad, "you're not crazy. That's the problem, you see."

Catherine sniffed, a brief smile crossing her rouged lips.

"No, I think it's more like an intuition of sorts…" he continued sadly.

Catherine's blue eyes widened. "Y-you… you… hear the voices t-too?"

He met her gaze unflinchingly. "Yes…" his voice trailed off into a sigh.

She knew then that something had changed. Maybe, just maybe, she loved him… and he loved her back.

**Chapter Five**

When the pregnancy came she was so confused. James was bragging as usual, finally having succeeded at something at least. But he didn't care, cared more about his own damn reputation and image than he ever did his wife.

Sydney was always there, her loyal friend throughout; even when the twins came, and her baby boy was stillborn; even when she cried so much, a wreck, an ugly moping wreck.

He helped her see the sunshine behind the clouds, helped her move on and start loving her baby girl, her sweet precious Jezebel.

Catherine sat on the wooden slated bench in the personnel dining hall, staring down at her food without really seeing it, baby screaming its lungs out in a crib beside her. But she just didn't hear.

People had started to give her funny looks, others had left early, but none really cared to approach and ask how things were, how she was managing, if she was managing.

James, her own husband, hadn't spoken of it further than its initial mention.

"_Still born? Hm. Can't do anything about that, can we…? That baby's bawling. I've got a phone call to make, think you could, you know… something…"_

"_Hair's a bit messy this morning…"_

"Hush-a-bye, little baby…"

Catherine looked up from her plate abruptly. Jezebel wasn't crying any longer. Sydney had picked her up and was humming a little lullaby for her.

Sydney smiled when he noticed Catherine watching him. "Go on, have something to eat, you could do with the strength."

Catherine blinked slowly and looked back to her plate silently. Her stomach churned at the site of it. "Mmmm…" She shook her head.

Sydney shook his head, slowly rocking Jezebel from side to side. "Mmm-mmm? Yuck?"

Catherine made a sickened face.

Sydney smiled, getting to his feet now. He looked back to her plate and shivered. "Ukkk. C'mon, I'll take you out for lunch? Baby can come too?" He gave her a hopeful little smile.

Catherine nodded mutely as he replaced Jezebel in her crib and strapped her in.

Sydney helped her to control her abilities, to live with them. And through them she discovered the truth, vowing to help those who needed her just as Sydney had helped her.

Back then she didn't know how far it went, didn't know – or fully comprehend – the danger she was putting herself in. Whatever else she was, she was still the Chairman's wife. Not that it hardly seemed to matter. She was doing something good and she was so happy for this, except those times she couldn't help, and then Sydney was there as always, to pull her through. Her sweet darling Sydney.

With the birth of her babies, she had had to rethink a great many aspects of her life. She was a mother now. She had a responsibility to her baby girl.

And with that came the realisation that they could no longer go on like this.

In the past it had been so easy for her to find some loophole. Sure she was married, and a marriage implied an obligation to that person, yet she had ignored this dilemma.

The time for childish ignorance was over. Her baby needed her. Her baby loved her no matter what, didn't know what else there was. She had to be strong now.

But strength was something she was only just learning. Some days she felt as though she would die without him, and she knew she couldn't bring herself to stop.

She introduced him to Michelle, a co-worker of hers, in hopes that Michelle would take the decision out of her hands. She just couldn't bring herself to end it. She couldn't, for the life of her, summon the courage to let him go, to make him see that she didn't want – or in fact shouldn't have – needed him anymore. She wanted him to have something better, someone better.

She hated what she was doing to him. The fact that she did love Sydney but knew that they could never be the way they wanted to be. She felt as though she was cheating him somehow. He could have had so much better. He deserved so much better.

Michelle seemed like a nice girl. Catherine didn't want to see Sydney hurt; knew he needed her as much as she needed him. But if she could slowly ease him away from her, perhaps she could live with being without him, knowing that it was best for him, knowing she could never really hurt him because she loved him too much and would sacrifice anything in this world for him, would give him anything, except herself.

He deserved better. She would make him see that. She would give him that. No matter how much he loved her, she could not give him what he needed, perhaps Michelle could.

"Oh, no, Sydney, don't be silly, go talk to her," Catherine teased, pushing Sydney forward. Sydney blushed, glancing at Catherine as though worried.

Catherine gave him a little wave and then pointed to the corner, "I'll be just around the corner," she mouthed, and held up her crossed fingers for him to see.

His frown deepened, and Catherine thought his eyes had a desperate sort of gleam about them. She smiled mischievously, and then left him standing there as Michelle knelt down on the floor to retrieve the papers Sydney had knocked out of her hands.

Quickly dropping to the floor, Sydney helped gather up the papers.

Michelle leant forward to reach for one of her papers only to find someone was holding it out to her. She looked up and smiled. It was the cute doctor Catherine had told her about. She bit her lip to steady her voice. He had adorable brown eyes she thought she would never get sick of looking at. "Thank you."

Catherine leant against the wall around the corner, smiling ecstatically, her fingers crossed as she gazed up at the ceiling. Her smile slowly faded as she heard Michelle easily start up a conversation. After a few minutes Sydney didn't sound nervous anymore. Catherine took a deep breath and leant around the corner.

Michelle rolled her eyes and blew her fringe up. Sydney laughed. Catherine felt her heart beating far too fast. She couldn't be here any longer. Tears had welled up in her eyes. Silently she reprimanded herself. _Strong._

**Chapter Six**

She would have said Jarod was the start of the strain on their friendship, yet that wouldn't have been entirely true. However, she had looked over his ignorance of the Centre's less-than-best intentions.

When he was assigned the four-year-old Jarod, Sydney suddenly became the evil under the bed and she suddenly found herself torn between hating him forever for what he was doing and willing herself to hate him so badly some days.

_How could anything justify taking a child from its mother? How could anything justify the upbringing that awaited that boy? How could Sydney condone that? How could Sydney go along with that? Had he no heart? Had he been fooling her all along? What had she sentenced that poor girl, Michelle, to?_

But no matter what she did, she could never truly hate him.

Catherine dashed across the slippery grass. Rain poured down all around her but it was just a cold that soaked into her skin. Her scream was dashed against the roaring rain. "Sydney?"

Sydney stood gazing out at the raging ocean as though he didn't notice the rain. Catherine seized his arm roughly and wrenched him after her, her eyes determined in anger. She stomped over to the large tree a few metres away, dragging him after her, seeking refuge from the heavy rain.

"What the Hell are you doing?" she demanded, shoving him in the arm savagely, but he didn't meet her eyes. She raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face. He didn't even hiccup. It was then she noticed the wetness of his eyes and realised he had been crying. Her heart sunk. "Oh my God! Sydney, you idiot!" She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.

"Michelle left…" but that was all he could manage.

Catherine could have died.

Catherine knocked on the doorframe. She could see Sydney inside, reading one of his books, wearing his funny little reading glasses she thought were cute. "Sydney?"

He glanced up briefly and then looked back to his book, disinterested.

Catherine set her expression and swept across the room swiftly, placing the mug of coffee she had gotten him down on his desk in front of him. "I got you a coffee," she forced herself to say.

He didn't look up.

Catherine picked up the mug and took a sip before chucking the remainder of the contents in the bin, along with the mug. The sound of porcelain smashing made Sydney look up. He shot her a questioning glance, apparently disturbed.

Catherine rolled her eyes before she snatched the book out of his hands and it followed the mug into the trash. She planted herself firmly on the desk in front of him. "We gonna talk about this now?" she demanded gruffly.

He sighed dismissively, gazing instead at a paper weight on his desk.

Catherine huffed, seizing his chin and making him look at her. "Don't tell me nothing's wrong! I'm not a little girl anymore!"

Sydney rolled his eyes. "Perhaps it would be best not to tell you anything at all, that way you would have nothing to be upset about?"

Catherine opened her mouth. "I. Am. Not. Upset! You on the other ha-"

"Hhh!"

Catherine slipped off the desk and spun around, before leaning down and clearing the table of all items upon it.

"What was that for?"

"Felt like it!" she snapped at his barely-phased answer. Nothing she did seemed to be getting through to him. Ignoring the puzzled look Sydney was giving her, she grabbed him by the front of his clothes, wrenched him out of his seat and chucked him against the wall. "Now, the way I see it, you've got two choices." She allowed time for this to sink in before continuing. "Either you talk to me, or I make you!"

Sydney snorted.

Catherine narrowed her eyes. "I mean it!" She smacked his head into the wall for effect.

"Nothing to talk about…"

Catherine growled. Next moment a gun was pointed at his chest. His eyes widened in surprise and he hiccupped. A smile appeared on Catherine's face. She waved the gun about flippantly as she spoke. "Ah, see, that got a reaction."

"Wh-where… Who-whose…?"

The smile widened evilly. "Uh-uh. Doesn't work that way. You first."

Sydney shook his head. "I told you before, there's nothing to talk about," he replied stubbornly.

Catherine tossed the gun behind her and seized him by the front of his clothes, steering him towards the table. "In that case, you're over her." She pushed him onto the table and planted herself on top of him. She shrugged innocently. "No girlfriend. Heck! I guess that leaves you mighty free." The door slammed loudly of its own accord. Catherine shook her head, directing his gaze to her. "Uh-ah, eyes to the front, hon'." Sydney hiccupped. She leant down and kissed him.

Catherine cursed herself for her stupidity. Well if he shot her in the head tomorrow she couldn't have hated him.

She was losing it, had lost it long ago. Sydney had captivated her soul, and no matter what she did, no power in Heaven or Earth could reverse that. No storm could rise up and break that. No bullet could move fast enough to catch that. No poison could work well enough to kill that. This love was unstoppable.

_Even to I who live it day after day against my will._

She was no longer Catherine Parker, perfect wife, she was Cathy, perfect prisoner, held hostage by her own foolish heart.

**Epilogue**

Her eyes widened in shock, partially at the loud sound the shot had made, but mostly at the fact that she had just been shot. The blood scared her; so, so red, and so very warm. She found that her chest had suddenly become very heavy and she found it hard to breathe. Blood split down over her chin in red bubbles when she exhaled. She felt so, so cold. She would have shivered, had she the strength.

_Forgive me, Sydney. I didn't mean to leave you alone…_ and in that moment her breath failed her. Those pretty eyes took one last fleeting look at the world, a grey ceiling, and wished for his face.

**The End**


End file.
